For all its faults Hellraiser had solid, dramatic ideas about familial unease underpinning the transatlantic vivisection. Director Tony Randel's Hellbound: Hellraiser II doesn't even bother with that kind of personal dimension. The film begins well enough - Clare Higgns' Julia is dragged out of the underworld by Kenneth Cranham's Dr Channard, a lobotomist who is sexually excited by flayed bodies. Early scenes of the Julia drifting around Channard's house, smearing bloody hand-prints over his all-white interiors are visually interesting too, evocative of the human cost associated with Channard's hobbies. Julia and Channard do make for an intriguing couple too: Channard's an Aleister Crowley fan who uses his position at a psychiatric hospital to requisition police evidence and stage satanic ceremonies; Julia, hardly pliant arm-candy, actually seems to be working directly for the all-powerful shape that twists and turns at the centre of this film's rendition of hell. Neither of these villains gets very much to do beyond that though. Julia is trapped glowering at a pair of dreary heroines, boasting about her new role in this destitute cosmology as a wicked witch. Channard (eventually) gets himself a Cenobite makeover but ends up falling apart at a crucial moment for no particular reason. This is Hellbound's problem. Characters and their actions aren't tracking towards satisfying conclusions, they're simply grist for risible splatter effects.
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